In the dense, shadowy depths of the mock dungeon, a new type of beast emerged, one that few had encountered and lived to tell the tale. The S-rank beast that Shinhyuk now faced was unlike any other. While most S-rank monsters were known for their overwhelming power and savage ferocity, this creature exuded a different kind of menace—one that was more subtle and far more terrifying.

This beast, known as a Soul Reaver, was a creature of both physical and metaphysical terror. It was a towering figure, standing at nearly fifteen feet tall, with a body shrouded in darkness that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Its form was vaguely humanoid, but it moved with an otherworldly grace that belied its massive size. The Soul Reaver's most striking feature was its eyes—glowing orbs of deep crimson that seemed to peer into the very soul of its prey, paralyzing them with fear and drawing out their deepest insecurities.

Unlike other monsters, the Soul Reaver did not rely on brute force alone. It possessed a unique ability called Abyssal Dominion, a power that allowed it to manipulate the fears and doubts of those who dared to challenge it. This ability made it one of the most dangerous beings in existence, as it could render even the strongest hunters helpless without ever lifting a claw. Its presence in a dungeon was a death sentence for most, as few could resist the psychological assault it unleashed upon its enemies.

The Soul Reaver was known to bide its time, observing its opponents from a distance before striking with precision. It had a reputation for toying with its prey, slowly eroding their will to fight until they were nothing more than quivering masses of terror. Many hunters who had faced the Soul Reaver reported a sense of impending doom, as if the very air around them had become thick with despair. This creature fed on the fear of its victims, growing stronger as they grew weaker.

However, the Soul Reaver’s true power lay in its restraint. It was not a beast that mindlessly charged at its enemies. Instead, it remained eerily calm, calculating its every move. It would often let its opponents tire themselves out, attacking only when they were at their most vulnerable. This calculated approach made it all the more dangerous, as it gave the Soul Reaver an aura of invincibility, a sense that no matter what its foes did, they were doomed to fail.

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In the midst of the dimly lit dungeon, I paused, scanning the area around me. The silence was unnerving, but it gave me the space I needed to strategize. The horde of lower A-ranked beasts that swarmed me earlier had been dispatched with relative ease, yet the S-ranked boss that stood before me was different. It remained eerily motionless, almost as if it were analyzing me, calculating its next move.

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My mind raced. I needed to draw it out, force it into a position where it had no choice but to fight on my terms. But first, I needed to clear the lesser annoyances. As I pondered my options, a memory resurfaced—one of fire, heat, and destruction. The answer was clear.

"Ignis Cineris," I whispered, the words feeling like a forgotten incantation as they rolled off my tongue.

The ground beneath the lesser beasts began to glow, a fiery red hue pulsating from the depths of the earth. In an instant, flames erupted from the ground, roaring to life like a dragon awakened from its slumber. The fire twisted and coiled, consuming everything in its path. The lower A-ranked beasts didn’t stand a chance. Their cries of agony were quickly drowned out by the inferno, their bodies reduced to ash in mere moments.

But the boss… It didn’t flinch. Instead, a shimmering barrier surrounded it, deflecting the flames with an ease that made me grit my teeth. It was smart—smarter than I had anticipated. But intelligence could also breed arrogance.

I grinned. Perfect.

With the lesser creatures incinerated, I could focus all my attention on this so-called boss. I didn’t give it time to react. In a burst of speed, I dashed toward it, the ground cracking beneath my feet as I closed the distance. The air around me sizzled with residual heat, and my pulse quickened with the thrill of the fight.

This was what I lived for—the moment where everything else faded away, leaving only the pure, unadulterated rush of combat.

The boss’s barrier shimmered again, reacting to my approach, but it was too late. I wasn’t just any mortal, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to be stopped by a simple defensive spell. My blade sliced through the air, meeting the barrier with a resounding clash. The force of the impact sent shockwaves through the chamber, but I could feel the barrier weakening under the pressure of my assault.

It tried to push back, to hold me at bay, but I wouldn’t be denied. Not this time.

With a final, powerful strike, the barrier shattered, the remnants of its magic dispersing into the air like shattered glass. The boss’s eyes widened—just a fraction—but it was enough for me to see that flicker of fear.

"You made a mistake," I muttered as I closed in, my blade gleaming with anticipation. "You should have run when you had the chance."

There was no escape for it now. I was too close, too fast, and too relentless. The flames of Ignis Cineris still danced around us, casting a hellish glow on the scene as I moved in for the kill. The thrill of the hunt coursed through my veins, and I couldn’t help but revel in it.